


Episode 17: Not Your Strength

by PitoyaPTx



Series: Clan Meso'a [17]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Clan Meso'a, Dealing With Loss, Depression, Feeling Out of Place, Gen, Low Self Esteem, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Culture, Parental Death, adopted family, death of friends, mother figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 03:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18490000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitoyaPTx/pseuds/PitoyaPTx
Summary: "I won't forget the first time it rained." ~CaraThe fear, the anxiety, the looming depression have finally come to a head for Cara.





	Episode 17: Not Your Strength

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Anxiety/Depression triggers!

Cara stared up at the overhead light, tracing the iron filigree lazily in the air with her finger. Aviila was already gone, her bed was made, and Cara could hear the faint sounds of dishes clinking in the sink. She’d washed the majority of the pots and pans from dinner, but Aviila shooed her off to bed the moment she got back. Nothing in her tone or expression suggested she heard Cara crying. Maybe she knew but wasn’t comfortable saying anything? Cara wasn’t sure. At the moment, she didn’t want to talk.   
By the hazy gray mist she awoke to the day was sure to be overcast. Already a light rain was coming down, tapping against the retractable glass panes of the bedroom. Cara took a break from the light to watch the windows fog up and water droplets weave patterns in the condensation. Sometimes they’d make a face, always a sad one; sometimes a heart. Cara rolled over so she could face the window properly, catching the rising sun as it backlit the ever changing water art. She idly picked at a frayed end of her blanket, careful not to tug it but wrapping it around her finger still. Nothing coherent was on her mind. She just...felt things. Felt complicated, felt sad, felt alone. If it weren’t for that, she might have appreciated the sight of precipitation. Rain was a rumor on Tatooine. She could manage a slight smile at the thought of her father throwing down his hat in frustration if it ever rained. It would put them out of business, but there was something comical about his flustered face, raging about lost profits and hoping it wasn’t raining anywhere else so he could harvest it all for himself.   
The water turned off downstairs. Aviila was still moving around, possibly rearranging the washed pots. At some point, Cara heard the refresher door close. Maybe she could pop downstairs for a moment? Her stomach was vocal now, but she wasn’t sure she was up for breakfast with company yet. Slowly, as quietly as she could, she pushed the blanket back and got up. Without the breastplate, the jumpsuit was much easier to maneuver in. She felt like a shadow, a creature of the night slinking across the bedroom to the stairs… but once she reached it..she lost her nerve. She stood there, staring down with trepidation. Her heart was pounding, she had goosebumps..but she couldn’t bring herself to take the railing and walk down. What was wrong? She was hungry but what if Aviila came out right as she hit the landing? Why was she breathing so heavily? Could Aviila hear her panting? Why was she panting? Cara balled up her fist and slammed it against her palm in frustration. She couldn’t go down. She felt scared, out of control, upset...she collapsed back onto her bed and slung her arm across her face. She couldn’t do it. She’d just stay up here all day, but what was there to do?   
Cara let out a long sigh as if that would push the anxiety out of her. She sat up and looked around. Maybe Aviila had a datapad or holozine she could look at. A door creaked downstairs. Cara froze. Aviila was walking around again, but the patio door slid open. The sound of rain grew louder, then stopped as the door slid shut again. Silence refilled the home. Cara tiptoed to the far window overlooking the patio; Aviila was standing at the back gate talking to someone in full armor. The stranger removed their helmet, but Cara couldn’t make out exactly what they looked like. They stood there for a moment, talking. Aviila nodded to them, opened the gate, and followed them out onto the street. Cara lingered for a moment to make sure she wasn’t coming right back before backing away towards Aviila’s side of the room.   
Compared to Cara’s her blankets were much heavier, like they were weighted. She frowned. Even in sleep Mandalorians needed exercise apparently. She peered under the bed first, but found nothing other than a crumpled wrapper from a protein bar. Beside her bed on an unmarked crate sat a battery powered lantern, what looked like a box of chewing candies, and the silver holodisk. Cara lingered on it, picking it up and running her fingers across the smooth metal. She remembered the trip from Tatooine: her fearfully wrapped up in a blanket and Aviila smiling warmly at her from the cockpit. Then the holodisk came out and Aviila changed. The warmth was sucked out of her face; her eyes became distant and misty like the glass panes in the morning rain. Instead of water droplets, Aviila’s eyes were full of memories weaving pathways across her vision. She’d looked how Cara felt right now.   
Questions from the trip bubbled back up in Cara’s mind, namely what happened to her friends. They were dead, obviously, but… something told her it wasn’t that simple. Cara was well aware that tragedy was hard to talk about. Her mother may have been a tyrant in her later years, but she didn’t deserve decapitation. Neither did her father. Just thinking about them made Cara’s heart lurch, so she took another deep breath and focussed on the disk glinting in the gray, rain diffused light. She focussed on how warm the room was, how the gentle rhythm of the rain cushioned sound in the room.   
Studying the photo didn’t help her questions, but a part of her felt comforted by them. Their warmth immortalized in the holodisk was like a small fire warming her slowly from the inside. The way Aviila was laughing, they way she held onto her friend… reminded her of Fent and Beon. When she and Dovin drove away, she often looked back at them. They’d wave, Beon would cuff Fent over the head for something, she’d tell Dovin, he’d laugh… Cara laughed despite herself and felt a tear slide down her cheek. That month with them was probably the best and worst month of her life. “Hey, vod!” Cara tried to push their voices out of her head, but when she looked back down at the holoimage their voices rushed back to her with gale force. Aviila and her friends probably talked to each other like that. They probably called each other “vod” or whatever those other words were. She didn’t know, and at the moment, she couldn’t think. She was crying again, a gentle stream rushed down her cheeks and onto her collar. Thrusting her palms against her face she tried to stop, tried to pull herself back together, but it didn’t work. The holo disk wasn’t your best idea, she thought, opening her eyes and reaching to turn it off.   
A hand descended from behind her and toggled it off, nearly scaring Cara out of her skin. She whirled around and her heart leapt into her throat. Aviila stood behind her, still soaked from her journey out in the rain. When had she come home? Cara hadn’t heard a thing! She dared to meet her eyes; Aviila looked weary, just like she had been on the ship.   
“I...,” Cara tried to speak but her voice vanished when Aviila sighed.   
The sound was so sad, so labored, Cara’s heart broke again. Her tears returned with a vengeance, and she half-fell forward against the warrior. She didn’t think she deserved it, or that she wanted it, but she needed it. She needed Aviila’s arms around her and there they were, warmer than they had been before. Aviila knelt down beside the bed and cradled Cara.   
“You’ve held this in too long, little one,” she said, her voice lined with whatever deep sadness she was holding back.   
Cara buried her face in the soft furs and sobbed for what felt like forever. Neither spoke, they didn’t have to. They simply existed together in that space not wanting to intrude on the thoughts of the other. Cara’s tears slowed after a while and the tapping of the rain became a calming agent, helping her slowly pull away from Aviila. The Mandalorian unwound her arms studied her charge, gently wiping away tears still clinging to her face.   
“This is not you strength, little one,” she smiled sweetly, “You’re meant to feel. You’re meant to talk. Do not hold how you feel back. Not from those who love you.”   
She wanted to cry again at her words, but took a deep, steadying breath and nodded.   
“I’m sorry,” she managed.   
Aviila shook her head, “Kad’s strength comes in many forms. Nothing to be sorry for. Now,” she stood up and offered Cara her hand, “your tutor is here.”   
She hoisted Cara to her feet and moved to the side. Cara wasn’t sure she was ready for another new peron, but she nonetheless wiped her eyes to clear them and peered around Aviila. Standing halfway up the stairs was another Twi’lek with deep blue skin, a webbing of black lekku tattoos, and bright white face paint. Her dress was predominantly white on top, culminating at a point like a wide chevron just below her tan belt. In one hand was a large staff with a curved blade. In the other, a canvas bag. She lifted her chin and smiled sweetly.   
“Hello Cara,” she ascended the rest of the stairs so gracefully she might as well be floating. Aviila took her by the forearm in greeting.   
“Cara, I would like you to meet your tutor, Jecho Haria’n Chibala.”


End file.
